


The Rivers You Cross

by Tabithian



Series: Cities in Dust [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason's ghost is more trouble than it's worth sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rivers You Cross

**Author's Note:**

> More of that one AU where Jason is a Hunter and Tim is his Ghost? :D
> 
> I like to think the ghosts all have their own personalities because it makes me happy, and I also like to think there are Guardians out there who give them names because really, you know? Played with the _Destiny_ universe a little in this, sorry about that.

“'Piece of cake,' you said,” Jason grumbles, creeping further into the tangle of vines and underbrush. “'They'll never know we're here,' you said.”

There's a rush of displaced air, energy, Jason's not in the right frame of mind to care overmuch as the ghost reappears, looking of all things, annoyed with him.

“They wouldn't have,” Ghost says, dry, “If someone hadn't tripped the alarms on their way in.”

And, oh, oh, Jason has so many things to say to that, foremost on his mind being - “Well, hey,” he says, turning his head to look at Ghost. “Thank goodness there weren't any, I don't know, _fail-safes_.”

Jason is never going to let his ghost live that one down. Never.

Ghost splutters at him, speechless and indignant and Jason has to wonder a bit at that. If it's something the Traveler intended when it created the ghosts, or just something that happened along the way.

“That was one time - “ Ghost starts to say, and stops, clearly recalling the fact that no, no it most definitely was not. 

“Really,” Jason says, as though they're not in the middle of hostile territory, enemy patrols closing in on them. “You don't say.”

Ghost huffs, drifts around so it's no longer looking at him, like it's taking in the surrounding terrain when really Jason knows his ghost is _sulking_. (Jason's almost a hundred percent sure the Traveler never intended this kind of thing, but then again, what does he know?)

“Now's not really the time for this, is it?” Ghost asks, desperately grasping at a change of subject. “We're on a mission.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Hadn't noticed, thanks for that.”

With the Black Garden taken care of (for now, because there's no way it was that easy, no way it's over yet), they've settled into a routine of sorts. Running patrols and taking on a bounty or two when they run low on glimmer or mats. (Jason's tried his luck at wheedling an extra bounty out of Xander, but the frame's gotten wise his his tricks. Looks at him sidelong and gestures at the bounties up on the board, unimpressed.)

And then there are days like today, Cayde-6 approaching them while they're haggling with Banshee over a handful of heavy ammo synthesis modules with a mission for them.

Jason's learned to tell by the way Cayde walks just how much he's going to regret accepting it, knowing there's very little chance he'll be able to refuse. The Darkness is still out there, Fallen, Hive, Vex, and Cabal still on the move. Getting closer and closer to The City every day. 

He knows when Cayde's gait is loose and easy like a good Vanguard mentor checking up on one of the newer Hunters to join up and it's going to be tough, but nothing he and Ghost won't be able to handle on their own. A little more like Ikora, and it's going to be hell, no doubt about it, but they'll still able to get through it. Looking like Zavala after he's had to deal with Tower politics for too long and Jason's going to regret not bringing in a full fireteam.

Ghost half-turns to him, looking for all the world like it wants to say something to that – scathing, no doubt – but Jason spots movement behind it, something in the treeline beyond the small clearing they're looking out on.

“Hold that thought,” Jason says, flicking the safety off his hand cannon. “You can lecture me when we get out of here.”

There's a long pause, and then Ghost sighs, a curiously human gesture, and dips in the air, its equivalent of a bow. “Stubborn,” it says, “but understood.”

Jason grins, slow, full of teeth and nods at Ghost. “Nice to know we agree on something, Ghost,” he says, and goes to work.

*******

Before Jason really had time to look around, explore the Tower, he hadn't realized his Ghost was any different from the other Guardians' ghosts.

He knows better now, when he gets second-glances and double-takes, catches a Guardian studying Ghost intently.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Jason says, watching as Ghost flits around their jumpship, phasing into the engine compartment for a moment before popping back out, apparently satisfied with Amanda's work.

They'd decided to cut through some of the debris above Earth on their way home, hoping to shave some time off the trip back to the Tower. (Jason's decision, really, and he'd sure as hell gotten an earful from Ghost when they'd seen the damage after making it back to the Tower hanger.)

The hangar lights catch on Ghost's shell, red and black with gold trim, and Jason wonders what the significance is. He's heard from Tower inhabitants, Tess, mostly, what the different shells mean. What they used to mean, and no one seems to know what to make of Jason's ghost, which.

Ghost huffs, distracted before going back to his inspection even though they both know Amanda Holliday isn't one to do a shoddy job, or allow the people under her employ do the same.

*******

It's Ghost's idea to join a clan, although Jason's pretty much against the idea.

“Patrols are one thing,” Ghost says, which is mostly true. “Missions like the one Cayde just sent us on are another.”

Jason groans, tries to pretend he can't hear Ghost, even though the little bastard's tucked into the hood of Jason's cloak, soft glow of its light hidden from view.

“Really?” Jason asks, peering out from behind an outcropping of rocks to watch the Fallen patrol below. “Now. We're doing this now.”

Ghost huffs, bumping Jason's helmet. “You said you didn't want to talk about it when we got back from the mission,” Ghost says, almost patiently. “And you've managed to avoid the matter amazingly well.”

 _Up to this point,_ goes unspoken, although Jason can feel Ghost's disapproval like a tangible thing.

“Fuck's sake,” Jason mutters, creeping down from his hiding spot. “Fine, okay, we can start looking into it when we get back to the Tower.”

“Really?”

Jason knows Ghost spent a long time looking for him, knows it's really only been the two of them from that first day. And maybe it wouldn't be so bad, really, knowing there were people other than Ghost out there looking after Jason's back. (Might set Ghost's mind, or whatever it has for a mind, at ease if there were.)

He can hear the Fallen below, guttural sounds distorted by the canyon walls, echoing around them. This is easy, simple, thinning out Fallen patrols and collecting Wire Wraps.

Ghost isn't wrong, though, about needing people at his back on Cayde's special missions, on Vanguard strikes.

“Really, really,” Jason says, dropping lightly to his feet, decision made.

*******

Five minutes in, and Jason's already having second thoughts. (Well, more like second thoughts for the _n_ th time, but why quibble?)

“Okay, wow, no,” he says, scooping Ghost out of the air before it can lunge for Dick's ghost. “Seriously, no,” Jason says, ignoring the way Dick looks moments from bursting into laughter. “I thought I was the one with the bad ideas on this team?”

Ghost is shaking, voice low and angry, “You are,” it snaps, turning to look at him before vanishing, leaving behind little sparkles of light.

“He seems upset,” Dick says, like he doesn't have his own ghost carefully in his hand– and Jason resists the urge to stare because that one's not exactly normal either, is it - red and green with bright yellow trim and is a complete and utter asshole to boot.

“Really,” Jason says, flat. “I hadn't noticed.”

Also, _he_?

“It gets confusing calling them 'Ghost' all the time when there are so many of them around,” Dick says, waving the hand not holding his ghost close to indicate the various other Guardians wandering around. “Besides,” he grins. “They need names, don't you think?”

Jason blinks. Lowers his gaze to the surly looking little ghost in Dick's hold, and even though he knows he doesn't want to know - 

“What's that one's name, then?”

Dick grins, holding his ghost up and gives a little throwing motion that has it flitting up and away, circling around them before settling just behind his Guardian's shoulder.

“Damian.”

*******

“I thought you wanted this,” Jason says, laying out his supplies and wondering how much longer he can stretch them before things get desperate. “You know, what with all the nagging and all.”

He can dismantle a few of the weapons he found on patrol earlier, get a little bit of glimmer for the parts, but that won't last long. They'll need to check in with Xander in the morning, see if he has a few easy bounties and avoid Cayde and the other Vanguard mentors for the time being. (Neither one of them are quite ready for one of their missions at the moment.)

Ghost finally, finally deigns to appear in a little rush of displaced air and energy and who even knows what, looking irritated. (Jason's reasonably sure that's its default.)

“I don't nag,” Ghost says, put out, floating around the room, as if that's not a blatant lie.

“Of course not,” Jason says, feeling a grin slip out. “I meant to say being a major mother hen.”

Ghost stops dead, whirls around to glare at Jason.

“There are other clans,” Jason says, quiet.

And Ghost - 

“But you like this one,” and there's a bit of a question in there too, Ghost drifting in closer.

Jason. 

He doesn't know, is the thing. He's worked with other Guardians before on strikes and the few times he'd ventured into Shaxx's Crucible, drawn by curiosity and the lure of earning a little glimmer, but this - 

“I don't hate them,” he says honestly, “but I don't know them, either.”

And for whatever reason, Ghost doesn't like Dick's ghost, like really, seriously does not like it. (A bit ironic, maybe, because they're both arrogant little bastards from what Jason's seen, but what does he know?)

Ghost sighs, droops a little. “But you hate them least of all the clans we went to,” it says.

It's not like Jason hates the other clans, exactly, he just. It's like the factions, like he doesn't trust a damn one of them, but can't quite say why without sounding like a madman, and Ghost understands that.

Jason shrugs, picks up his favorite hand cannon and takes it apart to clean it. “So far, at least.”

Another little sigh, and Ghost is right there, hovering over Jason's shoulder watching him work. 

“Let's see what happens, then,” Ghost says, dropping lower to scan the gun's component pieces when Jason lays them out on the cleaning cloth. “What's the worst that could go wrong?"

*******

“This is your fault,” Jason hisses, dropping low to avoid being hit. “I blame you.”

Ghost is busy hacking into the Cabal's network and this is starting to feel a little familiar. 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Ghost says, voice distant as it works.

“I hate you,” Jason says, but there's no heat to it.

Ghost makes a quiet humming noise, and then there's - 

“There,” Ghost says, definitely pleased with itself as the locked doors slowly start to open. “No fail-safes tripped this time!”

Jason scowls over at Ghost, but it's not paying attention to him, obviously listening to something.

A pause, and then it says, sourly, “Damian says the others are in position.”

Jason doesn't know how Ghost feels about that, about Dick naming his ghost, but - 

“We're going to talk about this later,” he says, well aware that he says that a lot, but to be fair things like this tend to come up while they're in the middle of a firefight. “Don't think I'm going to forget.”

Ghost stares at him, bewildered, but doesn't argue, and that. That's like a damn miracle, really, Jason thinks, as he gets ready to take care of his part of the mission.

Dick and a few others from the clan are waiting a few miles away, waiting for Jason and Ghost to bring down the defense systems before launching an attack on a Cabal stronghold, and Jason.

Jason isn't exactly hating this.

*******

Jason's seen more kinds of ghost shells since he joined a clan than in all his time being a Guardian.

He still doesn't know what half of them mean, if they're for a specialization or some kind of hierarchy he hasn't learned about yet, but.

“You don't get strange looks here,” Jason says, glancing at Ghost who's hovering over his shoulder to read the post-mission report Jason's writing. 

Ghost _hmms_ , deletes a section of Jason's report he clearly doesn't agree with and adds in his own observations. 

“I noticed,” Ghost says, tipping itself to the side and giving the impressing of glancing sidelong at Jason. “That bothered you.”

Not quite a question, but.

“What, like we're not all freaks here anyway?” Jason says, surprised a little at the anger that makes it through. “We were all dead, and then you ghosts came along and decided we were _it_ for you, and you get the weird looks. Right.”

Ghost is quiet for a long moment, floating around to face Jason fully.

“Shut up,” Jason mutters, because he gets it, he does.

Ghosts were created by the Traveler, it's their function or mission or _whatever_ to select Guardians from the dead (and isn't that fucking creepy to think about with all the living people in The City and other out-flung areas to choose from). They're. Jason doesn't even know, given the level of technology the Traveler has – had? - at its disposal, but they're sure as hell not just machines, or a program or whatever else other people seem to think they are.

Not commodities, or property.

He doesn't know what Ghost is, but - 

“Do you want a name?” he asks, blurts out, more like. 

Ghost blinks, little flicker of light and it. 

“I don't know,” Ghost says slowly. “I've never thought about it before.”

Jason hadn't really either, at least not until he met Dick and ended up joining his clan, and there are days he's not quite sure he doesn't regret doing that. 

Guardians are freaks and weirdos and misfits, it's true, but this clan – it's like they draw the worst of the lot. Everyone's certifiably crazy, although some are better at hiding it than others.

Still.

“Name, yes or no?” Jason asks, because.

“Do you have one for me?” Ghost asks, curious, and this.

“Tim,” Jason offers, and grimaces. 

Wonders if maybe Ghost would like something more along the lines of an Exo naming scheme, or an Awoken's, if - 

“Tim,” Ghost says, sounding it out. “Tim.”

“Look, if you don't like it you can pick something else,” Jason says, defensive.

Ghost starts, looks up at him. “No, no,” it – he? - says. “I like it.”

They stare at one another for another long moment, and then Jason scowls. “Good, great, now that that's out of the way, how about we talk about you jinxing us before we even leave on a mission, okay? That is not something you do.”

Ghost – Tim – sighs, like Jason's being unreasonable about things like this, and settles close to the surface of the desk Jason's sitting at, patient and long-suffering and really, things could be worse for them. (And yes, Jason's well aware of what a hypocrite that makes him, but it's true, so. What the hell.)


End file.
